


Preposterous Charms

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-26
Updated: 2009-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur go down to the woods. They're in for a big surprise. (No bears, though. Or picnics.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preposterous Charms

"What are we doing out here again?"

"Hunting, Merlin."

"Hunting what?"

"Shush, Merlin."

Merlin grinned a lopsided, dimpled grin. "What do shushes look like?"

Arthur glared over his shoulder at Merlin as if he'd much rather Merlin would crawl down a rabbit hole than follow him any further into the forest. "Remember that talk we had about stealth?"

"It would help if I knew what we're looking for, is all," said Merlin.

Arthur looked away again and mumbled something that sounded like leper sores.

"Did you just say we're hunting _lepers_?" Merlin asked, incredulous.

Arthur whirled around, eyes flashing fury, and just a hint of embarrassment. "_Leprechauns_, Merlin. We're hunting _leprechauns_."

Merlin tried not to smile. He swallowed hard. But he couldn't help it. He took one look at Arthur's oh-so-serious face and burst out laughing. "Leprechauns? The little guys who make boots for faeries?"

"I knew you wouldn't take it seriously. See, this is why I can't tell you things, Merlin."

Arthur turned his back on him then, and strode off further into the forest.

"Wait, Arthur!" Merlin struggled to catch up, weighed down as he was with Arthur's spare weaponry and a few random rabbits Arthur hadn't been able to resist shooting along the way.

Somewhere in the distance he heard Arthur curse loudly and then yell, "Merlin! Come quickly!"

"Not what you were saying last night," Merlin mumbled. Then there was a glittery flash and a noise like magic, and Merlin dropped everything and broke into a run.

To his relief, he found Arthur just around the next bend in the path. At first Merlin thought he was simply leaning against a tree. But as he got closer, trying for caution now he could see Arthur living and breathing in front of him, he noticed two things that complicated matters considerably.

Firstly, there was the tiniest little man Merlin had ever seen standing on a tree stump a few yards in front of Arthur. He was no more than two feet tall, dressed head to foot in green with a red cape across his shoulders. He had a big black beard that all but swamped his face, and he wore a very jaunty hat. He was pointing. And laughing.

Secondly, the reason Arthur wasn't killing the little man or at the very least threatening to shoot him was that Arthur couldn't move his arms. Or his legs. Or anything, much, at all. On account of the vines.

Arthur was tied, very firmly, to the tree.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled. "Get here right now!"

Merlin weighed up the possibilities. He'd rather stay hidden, in case he needed to use magic. The situation seemed just plain silly at the moment, but he'd learned not to trust appearance, and he knew very little about leprechauns, except for the shoe thing. And, apparently, they liked to tie people up using magic and forest vines.

But on the other hand, Arthur had blown his cover and wasn't likely to shut up until he showed himself. So Merlin stepped out from his hiding place, waving.

"Got yourself in a bit of a tangle, Arthur?" he said. Grinning.

Arthur glared at him. The leprechaun chuckled.

"I'm glad you both find this amusing," Arthur said. "Merlin, any chance you could take that smirk off your face and untie me?"

"Yes, Sire," said Merlin, still grinning, and jogged over to the tree.

But the vines were bound around Arthur in an apparently endless loop, and although they looked frail and flimsy enough, he couldn't break them, however hard he tugged.

"My sword, Merlin?"

"I don't think you could reach them, Sire. You don't seem to be able to move your arms."

Arthur banged his head back against the bark of the tree in frustration. The leprechaun was rolling around on his tree stump, cackling with laughter and clutching its stomach, apparently helpless with mirth.

"Well, Merlin," said Arthur, very slowly and carefully, dripping with sarcasm. "Here's an idea! How about if _you_ used the sword. Do you think that might work? At all?"

"Ah," said Merlin, enjoying himself far too much. "Yes, that might work."

"_Yes_, Merlin. I really think it might."

Merlin took the sturdy hilt of Arthur's sword firmly in his hand, and pulled. It unsheathed with a crisp metallic _schwing_, and Merlin chopped at the vines.

Nothing happened. The sword bounced off as if he was trying to cut stone.

Merlin moved the blade up and down in a sawing action. He hooked it behind the vine and pulled. He even took a risk and swung hard at it, hoping his meagre skills of swordsmanship were sufficient to aim the blow without hitting the royal person.

Arthur yelped, clearly not at all certain that Merlin had any skill at all.

But nothing worked. However hard Merlin tried to cut the vine - and he knew the blade was keen, he'd cut himself unsheathing it, somehow, and now there was blood everywhere, funny how little cuts bleed the most, but anyway....

... none of it worked. The vines remained intact and Arthur remained tied to the tree, and the leprechaun kept right on laughing.

"I'm afraid, Sire," Merlin said, "that the sword won't work."

"Of course it will. Give it to me."

"If I can't cut it I don't see how-"

"Give. Me. The sword."

Merlin sighed and put the sword in Arthur's hand.

Arthur was undeniably strong and fast, but he wasn't particularly supple. Certainly not when tied to a tree. But he _was_ stubborn. By sheer dint of will he managed to get his wrist at an angle where he could rub the sharp edge of the blade against the vine. But, as Merlin could have told him (if only he'd listen for once) it didn't so much as bruise the stringy green fibres.

Merlin turned to the tree stump, where the leprechaun sat cross-legged, continuing to watch proceedings with considerable amusement, even if it had stopped the frantic giggling for now.

"Let him go," said Merlin, with all the authority he could muster.

The leprechaun cocked its little head to one side and said, "Now, why would I be wanting to do a thing like that?"

"Because he's the Crown Prince of Camelot, and if you don't let him go Uther will take terrible vengeance on you."

Arthur murmured, "ah, Merlin..."

The leprechaun just burst out laughing again.

"Stop that!" said Merlin. "It's no laughing matter, you'll see. He'll execute you."

"Uther Pendragon can't touch us. _He_ knows that." The leprechaun gestured towards Arthur. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled. "Get back here! Don't try reasoning with them, they're creatures of magic!"

Merlin bit his lower lip, hard, to keep from lecturing Arthur on the many things wrong with his assumptions, his attitude to magic and his personality in general. But he did turn his back on the leprechaun and take a step towards Arthur and the tree.

"That's it, run back to your _ma_ster!" The leprechaun taunted. "Coward!"

Something in Merlin snapped, and as he turned to glare at the leprechaun a sudden surge of magic ran through his body. He didn't fight it back for once; he let it fizzle from his fingers, the slightest flash of light. Soft enough that Arthur would think it a trick of the late afternoon sunlight trickling through the trees, but _there_.

The leprechaun froze, all trace of amusement suddenly and abruptly vanished.

"Warlock?" it whispered. There was more than a trace of fear in its voice.

"If you don't let him go," Merlin said, voice low and slow and steady, "I will hurt you."

"Merlin!" yelled Arthur. "What on earth are you _doing_?!"

But the leprechaun took a tiny step back from Merlin and licked its lips, nodding towards the tree. "Don't want no trouble," it said. "The spell's released. You can set him free."

Merlin rushed to Arthur and tugged at the vine around his middle, but it didn't budge. So he picked the frailest, weakest-looking vine, which was wrapped loosely around the trunk just above Arthur's head. He pulled. He grabbed the sword from Arthur and struck.

He was instantly aware of three things.

The vine was as strong as steel. Still.

He was face to face with Arthur, very close indeed.

The vines were slithering around his own body, binding him to Arthur and, of course, the tree, and he couldn't stop them.

"Oh," said Merlin.

"Merlin!" barked Arthur. "You _idiot_!"

The leprechaun was nowhere to be seen.

*

"Well, this is impressively incompetent even for you, Merlin."

"Sorry," said Merlin. His face was so close to Arthur's that it was a struggle to focus on him without going cross-eyed. Arthur's mouth was right _there_, and the temptation to shut his eyes, close the distance and kiss him was almost irresistible.

"Push off the tree," Arthur said.

"What?"

"Put your hands and your skinny little knees against the tree and _push_. See if you can stretch the vines enough to slip out."

There was a certain amount of sense in that, so Merlin put the desire to kiss Arthur senseless out of his mind and concentrated on fidgeting his limbs into the right places.

This involved a good deal of wriggling and writhing, as it turned out, and not a little rubbing against Arthur's strong, battle-firmed body. By the time Merlin was done his knees were clutching Arthur's waist, his arms were braced on Arthur's shoulders, and his cock was hard as iron.

Arthur cleared his throat, his gaze fixed firmly on a point somewhere over Merlin's left shoulder, and said, "alright, Merlin. On a count of three. One... two... three..."

Merlin knew that if this worked he'd end up in a painful, undignified heap on the forest floor, which Arthur would no doubt find hilarious and worthy of nothing but scorn. But he did it anyway. He took a deep breath, gathered all his (physical) strength, and _pushed_.

The vines stretched and gave, he felt the distance between himself and Arthur increase, inch by inch and then-

_Twang_ The vine snapped right up back tight again, slamming Merlin back into Arthur's body so hard and fast it whooshed all the air out of Arthur's lungs and left him gasping.

"Ow," Merlin murmured, his back stinging from the whip of the vines.

So. He was right back where he started, staring into Arthur's eyes, soft focus, while Arthur panted for breath and glared at him

And then Merlin closed his eyes, and Arthur kissed him.

*

"Sorry," said Arthur, after what felt like a very long time.

Merlin blinked his eyes open. "What for?"

"Well, this is hardly the time nor the place."

"I'm your manservant and you're the Crown Prince of Camelot. I'd say this is as good a time and place as any. It's a lot better than the stables."

Merlin watched Arthur struggle with the knowledge that Merlin was right and how very much this whole situation conflicted with Arthur's strong desire to control everything.

"We're very vulnerable here," Arthur said. "If bandits should come along, or a monster, we'd be dead meat."

"That's not going to happen," said Merlin, with shameless confidence.

"We're helpless," said Arthur, with feeling.

"Trust me, we're really not," said Merlin, and pressed his mouth to Arthur's.

Arthur mumbled something against Merlin's mouth (always had to have the last word, after all) and then gave up, parting his lips to let Merlin's tongue in, tilting his head with a groan as Merlin licked at his teeth.

Merlin was hard as stone and not really thinking much about anything except how good Arthur's hip felt to push at, even through the rough clink of his mail shirt. His senses filled with _hard_ and _rough_ and the smell of oiled metal and worn leather and _Arthur_. He braced his knees against the tree again, this time not to escape but to rub himself shamelessly against Arthur's body.

Arthur made a strangled sort of noise, and Merlin stopped and leaned back far enough to look at him. The give in the vines was rather convenient at this point; he could relax into their springy embrace and trust them to hold him there.

"I can't-" Arthur said, flailing his bound arms against the tree, "I-"

"What?" Merlin found himself staring at Arthur's full, kiss-swollen lips and trying hard not to zone out on how amazing they looked and how he'd like to-

"Merlin, a little help?"

Arthur twitched his hips meaningfully in Merlin's direction. Merlin blinked at him.

"It's... not comfortable," said Arthur.

"It's not like we ever do it in a bed," said Merlin.

Arthur's eyes went wide, incredulous.

"Oh!" said Merlin, suddenly catching on. He worked his left hand between them, fingers trembling a little as they made contact with Arthur's thigh. He slid up, under mail and tunic, until he reached the laces of Arthur's trousers.

Arthur hissed in breath and Merlin found the source of Arthur's problem. His cock was trapped where it had grown hard, pressed between his leg and Merlin's with a bunch of punishing armour in between. Merlin swiftly released it, stiff and eager and springing up to its usual vertical position as Arthur sighed a long, slow sigh of relief and slumped back against the tree.

Merlin left his hand there, curling slowly, protectively around Arthur's cock. Stroking, soothing, wishing he could kiss it better as he ground himself once more into Arthur's hip.

"Oh God," Arthur murmured, lips trembling against Merlin's neck, tongue flicking out to wet warm skin. "Merlin..."

Something about the way Arthur said his name at times like this sent a shock down Merlin's spine and he shivered with it.

"Wish I could touch you," Arthur whispered, and Merlin just smiled because he _was_ touching him, all over, their bodies pressed so close like this, Arthur's ridiculously soft blond hair tickling his nose and Arthur's chest pressed close and tight and Arthur's cock thick and hard and so, so warm in his hand; they'd never touched like this before, not so much, not so all at once.

Merlin nipped at Arthur's neck with sharp teeth, soothed with soft wet tongue and wished he had the courage to suck a bruise there. Big and purple and plain as a brand, _mine_.

He was getting close from the firm rub against all the strength and heat that was Arthur, roughness of steel and wool mitigated by his own soft linen underwear. He found just the right groove, the perfect place and rubbed shamelessly, Arthur rocking helpfully with just the right rhythm. It was about to be too much, Merlin's need for something soft and wet and flesh to fuck just forming, when his body shuddered from head to foot into orgasm and he came, spurting fast and hot and strong, all over his underwear.

Arthur knew, of course, kind of hard to miss with all the shuddering, and it gave him what he needed to find his own rhythm, thrusting into Merlin's hand. Merlin was done and spent and ready to collapse into a puddle of happy, all remaining effort going into making Arthur's cock feel good, when he felt the first wet-sticky squirt in his palm. He could feel Arthur's mouth scrunched in a grimace against his cheek, his ear, his neck, too tight to kiss but trying anyway. And then things went soft and Arthur slumped back against the tree, Merlin draped across his body like a blanket, and said, very softly, "how do you do that, Merlin?" before his eyes drifted shut.

Merlin waited until Arthur was really drifting, before he worked his right hand free and reached around the tree. He waited a few moments longer, kissed Arthur's neck (Arthur didn't protest, just smiled vaguely, completely out of it) and then, soft as he dared, sticky fingers pointing at the vine, whispered with a surge of power _~breote!~_.

The vine broke, shattered to green twinkling dust, and Arthur and Merlin collapsed into an untidy heap at the foot of the tree.

*

"Hurry up, Merlin."

Merlin made a token effort to speed up for a few paces before he returned to dawdling. His thighs ached from all that action at the tree and it felt like they'd been walking forever when he would much rather have been curled up asleep.

"It's nearly nightfall," Arthur nagged. "We're lucky the magic wore off when it did."

"I guess leprechauns aren't so powerful after all," Merlin said, casually.

"Obviously not."

"So, why is Uther scared of them?"

"My father isn't scared of anything."

"The leprechaun said-"

"Leprechauns are magical creatures who lie and cheat at every possible opportunity. They live only to trick people. You know the law, Merlin."

"But-"

"That's an end to it," Arthur said, firmly.

Merlin shrugged his shoulders, and immediately wished they didn't ache so much. They'd walked about a hundred yards further towards Camelot when Arthur said, carefully looking away and not at Merlin at all: "When father was very young, just after he met my mother, he bargained with a leprechaun. He had no money and he wanted to impress her. So he went and caught a leprechaun in the forest, because he'd heard they had gold. Well, the one he caught didn't seem to have any gold, or at least it wasn't going to give any to father. But it did offer to grant him a wish if he'd let it go, on the condition that father didn't pursue it or in any way hunt or capture or hurt another of its kind for as long as father lived."

"Uther did a deal with a magical creature? _Uther_?"

"Things were different back then. He's always regretted it, but it can't be undone. And if you tell anyone-"

Arthur treated Merlin to his most threatening glare. Merlin put his hands up in surrender. "I won't tell a soul, promise. So, what did he wish for?"

"He's never told me," said Arthur, "And I don't want to know. It's none of my business and it's certainly none of yours. Now hurry up, Merlin. It's getting dark."

"So why did you want to catch one today? Did you have a wish you want?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why the hunt?"

"Father heard that the leprechaun had returned. It bothered him a great deal, because it would be a threat to his authority if the thing started to cause mischief and he did nothing. So I came out to see it off myself."

"Well, job done, then! It won't have the nerve to show itself around here for a while."

Arthur snorted. "Of course not, after you let it trick you like that. It's probably moved on to find someone who's actually got brains. Can't be very satisfying to trick an idiot."

Merlin was about to point out that Arthur was the one who'd got tied up first. But all in all, things had worked out quite well, really, and Merlin wasn't in the mood for a fight, so he kept his mouth shut, shifted the load on his shoulders and steeled himself for the last mile home.

"Now come _on_," Arthur was saying. "Or do you want to be here when the wolves come out? Because I'd be perfectly happy to leave you. Plenty more manservants where you came from. It's no skin off my nose."

"I'll give it a miss, thanks. Let's go home," said Merlin cheerfully, and put a skip in his step to catch him up.

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a poem by Thomas Dekker:
> 
> "As for your Irish lubrican, that spirit  
> Whom by preposterous charms thy lust hath rais'd  
> In a wrong circle."


End file.
